Opera or Beer
by wolfmusic218
Summary: Is a disaster really is a disaster if only one person sees it that way?


**This was written for the Christmas Fic exchange and is for Bug Evans. Her prompt was: _John takes Carter on a first date but it's a disaster. What happens next?_ I really hope you like it. Merry Christmas! :) **

**I own nothing, but a love for these characters. **

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><p>He was going to strangle Finch with one of his computer cords. <em>Twice.<em>

With all the things he knew about all of them, how in the hell did he miss the fact that Joss hated opera? Reese sighed as he helped her out of the back of the limo.

It was supposed to be their first _real _date, something special, some place fancy, and he'd blown it. She looked absolutely stunning - the purple and gold dress she'd chosen fit in all the right places, but was demure enough for a night out on the town. She'd worn her hair down in soft waves that brushed her shoulders and taunted him, making his fingers twitch with the need to run through it. And those heels...the thoughts those simple shoes had put into his head...

He'd never seen her look so beautiful.

He wanted to believe that she'd dressed to impress him. Not that she ever needed to - she impressed him every day - but if that was her intent, she'd succeeded. Thoroughly. Almost to the point of embarrassment since he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of her for most of the night. And he'd realized he didn't want to stop at just looking at her - he wanted his hands on her. Hers on him.

And he'd brought her somewhere that had bored her to tears.

Oh, she'd been absolutely gracious and wonderful company, but he could tell it was definitely not her thing.

He took her hand as they walked to her door and she squeezed it gently. That little squeeze told him so much. He knew she knew what was going on in his head and was trying to make him feel better.

It wasn't going to work. He felt like an idiot.

Reaching into her clutch when they reached her door, she pulled out her keys and turned to him. "Feel like some coffee?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

She nodded and opened the door, switching on a few lights as she moved through the room. He took in the space; it was small, but comfortable with a lot of homey touches. It felt lived in and loved. In the last few weeks, he'd been here often and had always felt welcome.

"I'll put the coffee on after I get out of these heels. Make yourself comfortable."

He couldn't help it; he groaned in protest when she mentioned taking off those shoes. She turned with a little knowing smirk. "Sorry, John. They may look great, but they're killers."

"You have no idea."

She was going to make him suffer for taking her to the opera, he was sure of it as she strode over to him slowly, her hips swaying a little more than usual, a sultry look in her eyes. "Trust me, I do have an idea. Why do you think I wore them tonight? I know they look good."

Reese cocked his head and looked her up and down. "Yes, they do. The whole package looks good."

She brushed her fingers over his chest as she turned. "Mmm hmmm...but they're still coming off. My feet are killin' me. The things we do..."

"...are appreciated."

She threw him a wink as she turned the corner to her bedroom and closed the door.

Wanting to keep himself busy and his mind occupied with something other than what she was doing in the bedroom, Reese pulled off his tie, flicked open a couple of buttons, and wandered into the kitchen to get the coffee started.

About ten minutes later, her heard her pad into the kitchen.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

He turned at the sound of her voice and had to blink a couple of times at the sight in front of him. She hadn't just gotten out of the shoes; she'd changed her clothes. Now she looked more laid-back in leggings and a dark tee-shirt, her feet bare. She was leaning on the door jamb grinning at him.

It was like looking at two different women. And both of them stirred things in him he hadn't felt in a long damn time. She seemed to have that effect on him. Constantly.

She walked into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter, watching him watch her.

"Do I have something on my face?" she teased.

He shook his head and grinned. "No. I'm just not sure which look I like better on you. It's a tough call." He strode over to her and bracketed her with his hands on the countertop, leaning in a little closer. "I mean, you looked...amazing...tonight, Joss. Stunning. I was so proud to be seen with you on my arm. But this...I love this look on you, too. I like how comfortable you look."

She blushed a little, her dimples showing up and making him grin. "I am comfortable. I've always been comfortable with you." She looked up at him and realized how close they were. All she had to do was lean forward a little...

"Even after tonight?" He leaned away from her and turned, moving over to the coffeemaker.

She watched, a little disappointed at his avoidance, as he pulled out a couple of mugs from the cabinet. He was fidgeting. The thought of it made her smile a little. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. "What about tonight?"

He sighed. "Joss. We both know you didn't enjoy yourself tonight and I'm sorry."

"Hmmm. That's funny, because I thought I had a good time."

He paused in pouring the coffee and stared at the cabinets for a second. She could tell he was thinking about what to say, how to apologize for what he believed to be an awful first date. He couldn't be more wrong and she needed to make sure he understood that.

Joss jumped down from the counter and closed in on him, rubbing her hand over his back. "Let's take the coffee to the couch, huh?" Not waiting for an answer, she took his hand and pulled him into the living room.

Settling on the couch, she patted the cushion next to her. "Have a seat; I think we need to clear the air here."

He didn't know what to say so he just sat next to her, wrapping his hands around the warm mug and leaning his elbows on his knees. Words had never been his strong suit, but he knew he'd have to do better in expressing what he was feeling, what he wanted, if things were going to work out between them. She was so much better at it than he was.

She pulled her feet up, tucked her toes under his thigh and leaned back against the arm of the couch. Blowing across her coffee, she watched him. His face was a mask of concentration, like he was bracing himself for bad news.

Wiggling her toes to get his attention, she tilted her head to the side and smiled. "So why don't you tell me why you're so sure I didn't have a good time? I'm curious."

He turned his head, shrugging his shoulders. "LIttle things. You didn't smile much during the show. You looked bored. If I'd known you didn't like opera, or weren't interested in going, I would have come up with something else. I wish you'd said something; we could have gone bowling." He flashed her a quick smile and brushed his hand over her calf, giving it a squeeze.

"Not that bowling doesn't sound fun, I didn't tell you because it's not true. I do like opera. I like the beauty of the music and the sets and costumes. I loved the idea of getting dressed up and going out with you."

His eyebrows shot up a bit at that. "Yeah?"

She leaned forward and rested her hand on his knee. "Of course. I've been looking forward to it since you asked."

"And I blew it." He dropped his chin to his chest.

She cocked her head, wanting to laugh at this normally very intuitive man, but knowing it would be the worst thing she could do; he already felt bad enough.

"John...I guess I need to explain. Did you know that operas are also traditionally called 'tragedies'?"

He nodded. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, he turned his head to look at her, his eyes wide.

She nodded and looked down, away from his gaze. "People always seem to die in those things."

He sat up straighter and turned his body towards her. "I didn't even think about that..."

At that, she did laugh. "Of course you didn't; who would? I honestly didn't either until we were there and I was following the story. But John, you had absolutely nothing to do with that. That boredom you thought you saw? Just a little touch of sadness. We see things like that every day in our line of work. Hell, we nearly had our own a few months ago."

He took her hand and laced their fingers together. He didn't want to think about how he'd almost lost her. How he'd boxed his feelings for her up until they came to a head that night in the morgue of all places. How he'd almost seen his future bleed out on the dirty concrete sidewalk outside the police station. The day she'd been released from the hospital, as he'd driven her home, he'd realized they'd been given a second chance. Something very few people get. He'd resolved to not waste it and asked her to go out with him once she was feeling up to it. That it was time to make "whatever this was" official. To his surprise, she'd agreed.

It was like a flood gate opened after that. In the few weeks between then and now, they'd spent as much time together as they could, just talking and getting to know each other outside of work. Stealing kisses and caresses where they could. They'd taken things slowly. Very, very slowly. Frustratingly. But he was a patient man. He'd wait a lifetime if he had to.

He _really_ hoped he didn't have to.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. Hearing the quick gasp it caused made him look up into the eyes he already knew so well. She was blushing a little but they sparkled with desire and mirth.

Curling her fingers under his chin and pulling him forward, her lips brushed over his. She pulled back almost as quickly as an idea came to her. She set the coffee on the table in front of her and stood. "Wait here."

"Joss?"

"Trust me."

She went back into the kitchen and he could hear her rummaging around, glasses clinking, the refrigerator opening and closing, and beeping of buttons. He was close to getting up and checking on her when she came out grinning and holding a couple beer bottles and a bowl.

He stood from the couch to help, but she waved him off. "I got this. There's popcorn popping in the microwave. Give me just a second."

She was smiling and he was confused.

Reese watched as she crouched down in front of the gas fireplace and lit it, letting the flames flicker and crackle. He was starting to get a clue and he liked where this was going.

Next, she moved into the hall and pulled out a blanket from the linen closet. Moving back towards the living room, she flipped switches on the way until there was only the soft glow from the fireplace and a lamp near the door on.

His hooded eyes tracked her movements until she stood in front of him, her arms full of blanket and her hand holding the remote which she handed to him. "I think the Giants are playing the Seahawks." She winked and headed back to the kitchen.

He couldn't stop the grin. He knew exactly what she was doing and he fell just a little more in love with her for it.

When she came back out, she carried a bag of popcorn and M&M's. He'd turned the TV on to the game and had spread the blanket over him. His feet, sans his shoes, were up on the coffee table.

Seeing her, he gave her a soft smile and lifted the blanket in invitation. She poured the popcorn and chocolate into the bowl and slid under the comforter with him.

He wrapped an arm around her as she snuggled in closer to him and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Thank you, Joss."

She looked up and with a smile, kissed his lips gently. "Dressed to the nines or at home under a blanket arguing over a football game, John. It's not the where, it's the _with who_ that makes the perfect date. As long as I'm with you, it doesn't get better."

He swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he looked at her. He'd just fallen completely.

Pulling her to him, both hands on her cheeks, he kissed her. Hard and with a promise of things to come.

But first things first. "The Seahawks are about to spank your Giants, Joss, so I should probably apologize now "

She laughed and leaned her forehead against his. "Hmmm. No need to apologize...we'll see who spanks who...later."

Raising his eyebrows, he grinned and pulled her closer, his arms going around her waist, and wrapped them both in the blanket. "I am definitely looking forward to that," he whispered against her ear.

Neither saw who won the game.


End file.
